


the six stages of happiness

by wbtrashking (fan_nerd)



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Gradual Relationship, M/M, Slow Build, family fic, grief and recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 23:54:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11702478
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fan_nerd/pseuds/wbtrashking
Summary: Edward has the unfortunate news about his wife reach him in Aerugo. By the time he arrives home in Resembool, his heart is in knots and his life has become a mess. Alphonse is miles away. There are only a few people that Edward trusts in Amestris, and most of them live in Central.In the city, Roy Mustang is an anchor of normality for Edward, and he eventually finds himself drawn towards the man as a source of comfort more than anything else.





	the six stages of happiness

**Author's Note:**

> the title is kind of a happy spin on the six stages of grief. also, @ myself, what in the unholy fuck is this. i swear i have no idea how this fic came to life, it just sort of. did.
> 
> this also takes place post-brotherhood/manga canon, but the only thing taken from that is that ed + winry got married and had kids. :3
> 
> anywho, i hope you enjoy the read. :') i had a lovely time writing this. ♥

The weather in Aerugo is  _shit_  on his leg. With all the saltwater at the coast, and the sand, besides, he feels as though he weighs a million pounds, but he sweats it out with the sailors at the harbor and hides away inside of bookshops most evenings.

Lots of people here know nothing of alchemy and alkahestry, and that's, well, it's  _fine_ , but Edward is a scientist, first and foremost, so even before he starts furthering his research on topics he's well-versed in, he has to learn about the history of the nation.

There are still occasional skirmishes and riots at the border of Amestris, but Edward is long past his home country on the other side of the oceanic nation, and the people here are friendly. It had taken several weeks to earn their good graces, but part of what had been helpful about his appearance is that Edward has golden eyes rather than blue, and that his reputation precedes him, even way out here.

It's still baffling, to be known as a hero, a savior of their continent, and possibly the  _world_ , besides.

"Ed!" The booming voice of Andreas, a sailor, makes him look up sharply. He's tired from helping restore the bow of a ship by hand, but it's a tradeoff – the captain of the ship knows someone in town rumored to have an extensive collection of  _odd_  books, and that usually means their contents are forbidden. "You got a package at the station, you stud."

Edward rolls his eyes and wipes his brow. "Yeah, yeah." Even though he grumbles, he  _is_  excited to receive mail. It's been months since he's heard from Winry or his children, and two seasons since he's  _seen_  them. "I've still got some stuff to do before I head out for the day, though. What time's the station close?"

"Oh, get the hell outta here, you workaholic." Andreas is stern-faced and gruff, but he's a family man himself, and he knows how very proud Edward is of his own family, even if he's often reticent to mention them. "Go read your love letter from your wife and take an early day. You've done more than enough for us." Then, he fishes in his pockets and hands Edward an address. "Here. From the captain. Good luck."

The blonde man laughs dryly and pockets the note. "Thanks, Andreas." He rolls his shoulders, suddenly lamenting the state of his body – only thirty-two, and already so achy.

Then again, his life has been rather more eventful than the average  _seventy_ -year-old's, so he's not surprised that the muscles of his body are already feeling strain. With a skip to his step, he hurries to the train station of the port town – Julienns – and flashes the attendant a smile. "Hello, Mister Elric," Jason greets him warmly, tipping his hat to Edward. "Signature for your package, if you please?"

"You don't gotta talk all nice to me, Jason," Edward scoffs flippantly, scrawling with his left hand quickly and taking the box from the attendant's hands. "It's been almost a year we've known each other, and you keep talking outta your ass. Too nice for your own good and you'll be taken advantage of, you know."

"Don't say that," Jason feebly groans, and the noise tells Edward that he already has been taken advantage of, and perhaps quite recently, given the fresh hurt painted over his expression. "I can't help wanting to see the best in people."

"Ha!" Edward slaps him heartily on the back, grinning like a hellion. "Some pal of yours flirt with a gal you like and win her heart? Lose all your money bettin' on the sailboat races?"

"Possibly both," the young man grumbles, and Edward doubles over in laughter, wiping tears from his eyes. "It's not funny, Mister Elric!"

"Too goddamn nice," Edward assures him again and Jason pouts. "See ya later, kid. Try to work on that, will you?"

"Yeah, yeah," Jason says in return, already smiling back at Edward. "Take care of yourself, sir."

Edward hurries to the complex that he's been staying in – something like a short-term apartment building for sailors that spend more time at sea than at home – and tears the box open with greedy hands.

He's surprised to find that the first thing in the box is  _one_  letter, and beyond that, the script isn't one that he recognizes. Past the envelope, there are slightly more familiar things – photographs of his two children, Sarah and Lucas; rolls of yarn; fresh writing tools; a winter scarf, likely from his wife. What rests at the very bottom of everything else makes panic climb up Edward's throat, however; there is a box with a ring in it that he recognizes with painful ease.

Winry had made their wedding bands herself—had insisted upon doing so, really. They match perfectly, are free of precious stones, and are made of the same material that his leg is formed from – gilded steel.

He tears open the letter with unsteady hands, entirely unsure what it will say. He can only hope, desperately, that it simply says that his wife has grown tired of raising his children alone and waiting for him, but, deep in his heart, he knows that this is not what it will entail.

(He knows his wife too well. Even if she had fallen out of love with him, she would have waited to tell Edward that in person. He's terrified of this letter.)

 _To Mr. Edward Elric,_  the letter starts, a perfect sign that a stranger had penned this,  _I regret to inform you that your wife has fallen dreadfully ill, and as of July 12, 1931, medical specialists in the area seem to believe that she has less than two months left to live._

Terror and anxiety fill his heart. If he remembers the charts that the sailors had been carrying earlier, it's closer to the twentieth now, and even the fastest way back to Resembool will take Edward two weeks to arrive. His wife could die while he's on his way home, and his children are probably desperate to know where he is; the memory of his own father's absence while his mother had been dying burns like a scald at the back of his throat.

He keeps reading, even though his vision is getting cloudy.  _The illness is somewhat widespread within Resembool, and it is advised that, if you are planning to return, you do so after getting immunized. Your two children have been given the appropriate care, and your wife insists that you arrive safely._

Of course she had. Edward chuckles bitterly at the thought of Winry bossing this person around, even as she was growing weaker, and his breath latches in his throat.

_Please know that the Resembool Medical Association will do everything within their power to keep her stabilized and search for a cure to this disease._

_To the best of health for all,_

_Nurse Practitioner Barbara Westfield._

Edward makes his way back to the station with a case that's hastily packed. He shoves all of the things from the box back inside, tapes it, and calls for Jason without even taking a seat. He doesn't exchange pleasantries this time. "When is the first train back to the Amestrian border?" Crossing the border is still excessively difficult, even though Amestris and Aerugo have been at peace for years. Edward has a passport, but it is no less frustrating for the military police to interrogate him at length, and  _then_  realize exactly who he is. Then they would, to his further irritation, start insisting that he stay in town and receive a hero's welcome, and he had refused them  _every_  time before. This time is no exception, except that he's actually in a hurry, and he doesn't want to stop at all.

Jason, reading the tension in Edward's body and the look of loss on his face, says, "In two hours, at nineteen hours sharp, sir."

Edward pulls out the currency of Aerugo and slams out far too much on the counter. "Keep the change. Go pay back your debts or something, and see that my place is sold. Keep that money, too."

"You're not coming back, sir?" Jason sounds distraught at the prospect.

The silence between them is telling, and Edward sighs heavily, closing his eyes. "If I do come back, it will not be for a very, very long time. I'm sorry."

"Don't be, sir," Jason smiles softly, reaching to squeeze one of Edward's arms in a gesture of comfort. "Have a safe trip."

He leaves Edward alone with his thoughts until his train pulls in, and he waves goodbye until Edward is far out of sight.

Edward sleeps fitfully with the letter clasped in his hands, and remembers, yet again, that he is just a small, small part of a vast and incomprehensible universe.

 

//

 

When Edward gets home, sees Winry on the mattress looking sallow and still beautiful – still the powerful, gear-headed woman he's always loved – his breath stills and he feels as though he's five years old again, looking at his mother's smile as she'd wasted away to nothing. "Ed," she greets him softly, fondly, and kisses him on the cheek, fingers lingering at his back. "Welcome home."

Edward hates where his mind has been while he's been traveling home. The Philosopher's Stone. Human transmutation. He can't even use alchemy anymore, but Edward is still an  _alchemist_  at his core, and it's a curse. "Hi," he says shakily, his smile born from nerves more so than the pure joy of reuniting with his wife.

They sit there for a long time and say nothing, staring out at the sunset, before he speaks again.

"Why did you send me your ring?" Every word feels like sandpaper on his tongue. The gesture had been so painful, and he'd been terrified of finding Winry cold and dead and buried, nothing more than a gravestone, by the time he arrived in Resembool. He's lucky that his children are dozing carelessly in the living room – he's not sure that he could have kept from crying the moment they had bounded up to him.

"I don't want to be buried with it," she says sternly, pinching his cheeks. "It's yours to keep, or to pass on."

"I'd  _never_  give your ring to, to some –  _stranger_!"

Tense silence falls between them and Winry pulls Edward into a tight embrace. "Edward. We have to talk about this." She squeezes his sun-tanned hands and says, "I'm dying. Soon."

He closes his eyes and curls into her warmth, hearing how ragged her breathing is. Reluctantly, he says, "I know," and he refers to both things – her inevitable death, and the fact that they need to talk.

"You can't linger on my death, and I wouldn't want you to," Winry insists, pressing her forehead to Ed's back. "No alchemic shenanigans, Edward Elric, and no use of human lives in order to keep me here. If I'm going to die, I'll die in my own time, in my own way, and I'll be buried with my automail tools like my grandmother before me."

"Automail geek," Edward breathes the mockery lightly and Winry can only laugh in response. She's too tired to hit him and he hates that he misses that.

"Don't get me started. You're going to say that you'll never love someone else ever again, and that's stupid." He swivels in her grasp and finds himself stubbornly setting his jaw. "Lots of people are drawn to you, and I won't let you have our children grow old out here with you being miserable by yourself, or worse."

 _Or worse_  refers to Edward's unfortunate resemblance to his father in that he loves his children, spends as much time as he can with them, but his heart is drawn to people— _all_ people—and he spends as much time at home as he does abroad. Though he thinks that he'd never leave his children all alone, not like Hohenheim had left himself and Al, he can't guarantee that.

"I'll…I'll think about it, Win." It's the most he can promise. He knows that she's right.

"Besides, even if you don't find some other woman to take pity on you and your nerd brain, maybe Sarah would like to have it, when she's old enough."

The idea of letting Sarah have it as a gift when she's old enough to marry tears Edward apart, but he swallows thickly and agrees. "Right."

"You also have to tell them the truth about your past." Winry and Edward have told Sarah and Lucas as much as they've thought appropriate. After all, the two are eight and six years old, respectively, and as smart as they are, Edward's past is full of a darkness too deep for most children to fathom.

Which is exactly why Winry is insisting that Edward tell them now.

"You and Al were even  _younger_  than them when you started planning to bring your mom back, and hell knows that they're your children. The headmaster at school refuses to have them attend because Lucas and Sarah would rather be holding the lessons themselves."

Edward chuckles at the familiarity of something so long behind him that it feels like another lifetime ago. "I'm sure. Those old bags wouldn't know advanced mathematics and sciences if the shit bit them in the ass. They're probably running circles around them." He kisses Winry's palm and sighs. "You're right. Teacher didn't tell us the truth either, and I was stupid enough to just think that everyone that had tried human transmutation before us was just an idiot."

"Last thing," Winry says, hearing chipper voices from a couple rooms over and knowing that they don't have much time left to themselves. "Let yourself be happy when I'm gone, okay? I don't care  _who_  it is, or  _what_  it is, that keeps you occupied, just…look around. You promised to keep moving forward, and I won't be the one to hold you back, even if I'm dead."

Edward laughs bitterly at that, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I hate how well you know me."

"I married you," Winry starts, voice unnaturally quiet, "and I love you. Of course I do."

"Of course," Edward quietly replies, and it is at that exactly moment that their children burst into the room, so excited to see that their father is home and that their mother is awake that they chatter all night long.

 

//

 

Winry dies in the middle of August on a beautiful day and Edward cries for the first time in many years. He'd cried when both of their children had been born, and before that, the last time had been on the Promised Day.

For a week after that, Edward visits with some of their neighbors, all of whom bring him food, on the mistaken assumption that he cannot cook, and he sits in the quiet house with his children, watching them wander the halls with confusion.

They're old enough to know what death is, and know its' impact, but they still don't really get it, that their mother is gone and she's never coming back.

Edward waits two weeks for things to cool off before he starts to tell his children about his own childhood, and how his hubris had brought about his failings, leading to a journey of a grand scale. He's not a hero, and he never will be – he just  _cares_  that people do the right thing – and it's important that his children know that.

This house has a lot of memories – a lot of them  _good_  memories, but Edward can't stay here. Resembool was always too quiet for him, and he knows that the children have lived in Rush Valley just as much as they've lived in the countryside. He's going to sell both of the houses, though; he can't live in them without Winry there.

"Where are we going to go?" Sarah is the first to ask, after understanding the magnitude of everything that Edward has told them.

"To Central," Edward explains easily, packing all of their things into trunks and contacting a neighbor to help liquidate his assets.

He sends Alphonse a letter to his permanent address in Xing, even though he knows Al is as prone to staying in one place as he is, and sends another letter to Ling, just in case. Then, he sends letters ahead of himself to Central, to the care of Lieutenant General Hawkeye, and one Mrs. Gracia Hughes.

It takes them four months to prepare, but Sarah and Lucas seem interested in moving away from home, if only to get away from the creeping quiet of their too-large house and the adjustment of living without Winry there.

 

//

 

Gracia willingly opens her loft to them with a smile. She keeps her place tidy, and Elicia seems to be helping her prepare dinner. It's so strange to see her all grown up, with her hair cropped even shorter than her mother's. Apparently, she's enlisted in the military, much to both her mother and Edward's surprise, but she adores both of Edward's brilliant children, and she shows them to the study to give Gracia and Edward time to speak.

"I know how hard it is to lose your spouse," she promises, pulling Edward into a fond hug and making him feel rather like a child again. "You're welcome to stay as long as you like, Ed. You know you're like my own son."

"No, it's okay," he says quietly, somberly. "I'm going to find someplace in the city to work, get them back in school. I wanted them to have a challenge, and to be around more kids their age. Maybe learn a little bit more alchemy, if they're interested."

"Well, I'll help in any way that I can," Gracia promises, and Edward smiles up at her fondly. "Are you going to stop by Military Headquarters while you're here?"

Edward rolls his eyes. "What, and give the Führer an excuse to send me out his errands as soon as I'm back in town? Not any time soon. Maybe once we get settled."

Gracia chuckles at that and pats Edward's head. "It won't be all that bad. I'm sure everyone's dying to see you."

She's right, and he knows that, but he has more important things to focus on.

Mustang and his team can wait.

 

//

 

It takes Edward a few days to call on some old connections and prove himself useful to the aerodynamic research company,  _Flügel des Himmels_. They hire him almost immediately, especially after he gives them his name, and the pay is exorbitant. Likely due to the nature of their research, they have deep ties to the military, and they have a large fair to showcase their projects twice a year.

Edward sees the beauty in the potential convenience of what they're trying to build –  _aeroplanes_  – as well as their danger, but, well, he also knows who currently runs the country.

The current government of Amestris will see that these scientists are protected, and that their crafts do not singularly wind up being used for mass murder. Battles are still be fought all around Amestris and Edward begrudgingly admits that war can't be entirely avoided. This job  _is_  what he needs right now, so he stows his feelings on the subject and he accepts.

Pay is weekly, and bonuses are rewarded for exceptional projects. Edward is able to move his children into a townhouse within a month, and he eagerly takes them shopping for new clothes and notebooks once all of his immediate bills are paid.

After he's been in Central for a season, and his children are beginning to liven up, chattering about school friends their father's invigorating work, he sighs deeply and steels himself to meet some  _very_  old companions.

His connection to the military is no secret – his children know his old alias, too, although they're not entirely sure why he'd held it, other than the fact that most people in this city hail Edward as a savior. His neighbors are always sending them gift baskets and slipping letters in his mailbox, so there's no way it's escaped their notice. Their best guess, intelligent little monsters that they are, is that it has something to do with Edward's automail leg, but they're not sure why that would have warranted being called  _Fullmetal_.

Edward organizes proof of his identity and marches right up to the military gates, impressed to find that the entrance itself is now available for civilians to come inside. He'd figured that he would have more of fight with the MPs by bringing his children along with him.

Then again, the MPs on duty both look  _relieved_  to see him, and Edward realizes that they recognize him. He's honestly getting kind of tired of the hero worship, so he snarls at them, even as they usher him inside.

The halls are still long and white; the ceilings outlandishly tall. Sarah and Lucas are uncharacteristically quiet behind him, so he knows that they feel slightly intimidated by the grandeur of the building. He squeezes their hands to calm them down a bit.

He encounters slightly more resistance as his strides take him past the mess hall, and then further into the officers' quarters. He plows ahead with stiff explanations and proof of his identity until he reaches the office centered almost exactly in the middle of this building, although it is no longer stationed at the highest point – the previous Führer had thought it a bit arrogant, especially in the wake of King Bradley's horrendous rule.

Edward unfeelingly kicks open the door to the office, making both of his children snicker. "Oy! Somebody tell the bastard to come out before I break all the desks in here. Or, even better, he could send the Lieutenant General, since she'd probably like to get away from doing  _his_  paperwork for a while."

The grunts are all panicked, trying to figure out how to get rid of Edward, but one familiar face is in the sea of young recruits. Breda is standing at the helm of the young men and women with a bright smile, looking much older than Edward had found him last time, and perhaps a bit slimmer at the waistline. "Ed. Oh, hell, is it good to see you. At ease!" The office quiets at his command, and all the curious eyes burn holes into the blonde man and his children standing at his sides. "Who're these l'il charmers?"

"No children of mine are little, I assure you," Edward quips back, but his tone is warm. "Sarah and Lucas," he introduces them with pats at their backs, and they both bow obediently. Their hair is burnished blonde, and their eyes are flecked gold and hazel, looking like a perfect blend of both their parents.

"Where's the wife?" Breda asks, and the Elric family all deflates a bit.

Edward bravely picks himself up, though. "Sorry, I thought the Lieutenant General might've told you. Winry died last year."

Instead of apologizing, Breda just pulls Edward into a brief hug, and pats both of Edward's children on the head, ushering them into the office with a knowing smile.

The gesture feels good, and for the first time, Edward thinks he's truly starting to come to terms with Winry being gone, and he recognizes that he's building a life without her in it. She's been dead just over seven months and Edward feels like he's been holding his breath the whole time, so this realization is something of a relief.

Then, of course, he feels guilty for feeling like that, but he doesn't have time to wallow.

He comes face-to-face with the Führer of Amestris, democratically elected in a popular vote for the first time in their national history in 1927. Mustang's tenure is to go on for twenty years, or, should he prefer to retire in fifteen, he's welcome to do so.

Mustang is also an incurable workaholic, so he looks up from the papers Hawkeye has handed him to see two sets of unbelievably wide eyes on the children, and then he sees Edward Elric in his office for the first time in sixteen years.

"Well, hello," Mustang begins gently, getting out of his seat to formally introduce himself to Edward's kids. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Edward," Lieutenant General Hawkeye breathes his name happily, unable to keep from smiling at the sight of him. "Are you all well?"

"Yeah, we're good," Edward says, going to shake her hand with a flash of teeth. "Sarah, Lucas, say hello. This is Miss Hawkeye, the most powerful woman in this country, and she'll make damn sure you know it, too."

"Language," both Mustang and Hawkeye are quick to grumble, though they know the warning is futile. Edward's children are undoubtedly aware of his penchant for foul language.

"Nice to meet you," Sarah politely dips her head, and forces her restless little brother to follow suit. Then, she kicks the back of Edward's right leg and makes her father wince at the force of it. "I'm sorry about my dad. He always gets himself into trouble." Then, a little more shakily, and with an awe-filled expression, she turns to the dark-haired man. "You're, um, the president, right? President Führer Mustang? Does that make Miss Hawkeye your wife?"

Edward guffaws at the suggestion while Hawkeye herself rolls her eyes – it's far from the first time someone's made the suggestion – and Mustang huffs at the very notion. "She's my most trusted aide, meaning that she protects me, mostly. She also helps me out with negotiations when I meet people from other countries. Not to mention, she's  _way_  scarier than I am, so I can do all my work and she can take care of all the bad guys."

"Woah," Lucas exclaims gleefully, turning his shimmering eyes up at her. "That's so cool!"

Sounding every bit Edward's child, Sarah flippantly says, "Well, it sounds like Miss Hawkeye does more than you, then. I want to do that job when I grow up, Dad."

"If you want to, I'm pretty sure mainstream military applications accept you starting at age sixteen, and until then, you'd best polish up on foreign policy, kiddo."

"Hell yeah," Sarah pumps her fists, and Edward ruffles her hair with pride.

"Two more Elric siblings," Mustang grumbles, obviously feeling wounded that  _no one_  in the room seems to respect him, "Central's going to be in tatters come morning."

"Aww c'mon,  _Führer President Mustang_ ," Edward says his full title with mockery. "It could be worse. Al's kids took on May's last name. If they were all here, that'd make  _five_  Elric kids smart enough to steal your position in a few years."

Mustang just groans.

 

//

 

It winds up that Mustang gets permission from Hawkeye to go out to lunch with Havoc and Breda trailing them. Beyond that, Edward brings his children, and the two of them catch up while fielding questions from the children and Mustang's men. "Kinda surprised we haven't run into each other yet. I work at Himmels these days – the flight engineering company. Figured that was the kinda gig that you and your team would be keeping a tight eye on, in case something actually works."

"I admit that I've been keeping tabs on the place, but I'm not so obsessive that I would have memorized all of their staff changes, Fullmetal," Mustang chastises Edward, who only rolls his golden eyes. "What?"

"What, like I'm supposed to actually  _believe_  that? How long have you – or  _Hawkeye_ , I guess – known that I worked there?"

Mustang looks appropriately cowed and he grumbles, "Since the start, in February. I heard about your situation, but I must say that I'm still surprised. Aerodynamic engineering, and working in Central, besides. Why?"

Edward pauses for a moment before answering truthfully, making sure that Havoc and Breda are keeping his children occupied. "House was just too much once she was gone. I needed to get out, and I think the kids are glad that we moved too." He waits a beat before leaning forward. "So, what, now that I'm here, you want  _me_  to keep an eye the place? I'm just there to see if we can get something larger than a chair off of the ground, Mustang."

A league of emotions cross Mustang's face before he just  _rests_ , and his eyes are locked on Edward's. "I'm just  _worried_  about you, Fullmetal, if you'll believe that. You're an only father now and a widower, besides. Can't I just… _worry_  without having ulterior motives?"

"That's your problem," Edward mumbles between a mouthful. "You're always worried, you dick." He smiles, albeit a bit sadly. "I'll be fine, and don't worry. I  _guess_  I can make sure the company doesn't make anything that'll start blowing people up."

Before they leave for the day, Mustang puts a hand on Edward's shoulder. "Try to come see me again in less than fifteen years, alright? Now that you live in the same city, you don't have an excuse. I'll drag you out if I have to."

Edward studies Mustang's outstretched hand for a long moment before clapping it back. "No promises. Now get back to running the country."

"No promises," Mustang quips back, and then he waves goodbye, Havoc and Breda trailing right behind him.

 

//

 

After enduring a hundred questions from Sarah and Lucas, Edward manages to get them to go to sleep, and then he fondly recalls the afternoon.

As many horrible memories Edward has associated with his time in the military, he remembers many, many more pleasant times with Mustang and his team. Although he'd been reluctant to reconnect with _them_ in particular, it had been nice to see them. Edward had told himself that he'd come to this city because there were people that  _knew_  him here, and now he's met with them.

All of the sudden, Winry's last words burn him like a brand.  _Let yourself be happy_.

He's not chasing a goal. He's not off traveling the world to take in as much information as he can possibly find and cram it into his brain.

_So, are you going to stop? Let this mistake ruin you and stand in one place, then?_

It's not Winry's voice saying that – it's Mustang's, a memory of a foregone time.

Edward's not sure how he's supposed to move forward from this; not when the kids are depending on him to  _be_  there; not when there's no one else at home to make dinner and smile at them and praise their intelligence.

 

//

 

It's a strange sort of accident that brings Edward and Mustang together the second time they reunite.

Edward elects to take a  _long_  fucking lunch break away from the aerodynamics engineering lab, tired of arguing about the correlations between alchemical bonds that resulted because of tectonic shift and talking about aerodynamic lift on vehicles and equipping appropriate light engines on them.

The blonde man's superior throws his weight around because he thinks that all of Edward's renown as an alchemist is useless to his prowess as a scientist, and most of the young people have allied themselves to  _Edward's_  causes, finding him a more reliable resource on the topic of their work.

Edward Elric is thirty-four fucking years old, and he's trying to prove himself to some old man more than twice his age and with less than half of his intelligence. It's  _beyond_  insulting, and what Edward wouldn't give to just kick him in the privates and walk the hell away from any job where he had to speak to the asshole, but he can't.

It's been a few weeks since he ambled into Mustang's office, and since then, he's been passing notes to his old superior about the  _secret_  research that Edward's new boss has been undertaking. Therefore, it comes as a  _real_  surprise to find someone who is decidedly  _not_  an informant standing at the deli counter.

Roy Fucking Mustang, Führer of Amestris, is standing at the counter in a three-piece suit instead of full regalia, and his bangs are down. He looks a lot younger this way, still baby-faced and a bit exotic. He waves to Edward, and it's obvious that the older woman taking his order knows who Mustang is and is keeping mum about that, so Edward waves back with a deep scowl and places his own order.

"I literally come to this deli to write your shitty ass correspondences," Edward mumbles around a mouthful of rye, having carefully peeled the crusts off of both halves of his sandwich. "Which, by the way, I could  _type_  instead, if my handwriting is so abysmal that you'd rather risk coming out to talk to me in person."

The typewriter is a beautiful invention, credited to an inventor halfway across the world, and as rarely found as they are in Amestris, he's certain that Mustang could scrounge one up for him to use, if that really is what the president has come to complain about.

"While your handwriting truly is beyond hope," Mustang muses, "I simply came out to get something to eat. Will that be a problem?"

He's so used to Mustang plotting  _something_  that he can't relax yet. "Here? In public? You could've sent Hawkeye." After he says that, he really takes Mustang's appearance in. Without all the extra portions of the regalia, he looks rakish, like he hasn't eaten a hardy meal in a week or two. "Or, y'know,  _any_  of your staff members. Jesus, they all just fucking leave you to starve while you bleed onto your important documents?"

"I don't… _bleed_  on them," Mustang grumbles petulantly, remembering with a start how easily Edward gets under his skin and he sets his jaw. "I just wanted to get out. There are a few guards outside, but I can protect myself. You know that."

Edward finally relaxes at  _that_  divulgence. "Go figure. This is my favorite place in the southern quarter, too."

They chat somewhat frivolously, and Mustang hardly eats his sandwich, making Edward frown. When they stand up to leave, he pokes the brunette and says, "That's all you're eating?"

Mustang smirks at him. "Did you want the rest?" Mustang remembers Edward's fearsome appetite from when he'd been his superior and Edward elbows the president hard in the ribs, making him wheeze for breath.

"I'm just worried about you," Edward says, and Mustang blinks back at him in disbelief. "Weren't you the one that said the same thing to me when I first moved back? What? I'm not allowed to be worried about you too?"

"I've just never heard you express yourself so frankly, I suppose," Mustang hums lightly. "I appreciate it, Fullmetal, truly."

"If you really  _appreciated_  it, you'd come over to eat dinner sometimes or some shit, instead of wasting away at your desk all night. You can take a break from saving the world every once in a while, you know."

Silence falls as the gravity of what Edward has said dawns on Mustang. "You want to have me over for dinner with your family?"

"Sure. D'you have a day that works best for you?"

"Who's cooking?" Mustang looks baffled and Edward starts getting annoyed. "Your daughter?"

"Me, you asshole!" Edward turns on his heel. "Fine. See if I give a fuck when I hear the radio declare that you're bedridden from being overworked and having insomnia."

"Sundays," Mustang says slowly, reaching for Edward's wrist and falling just short. "I have lax security detail on Sundays. I'm certain that the Lieutenant General will figure out something to tell them."

"Seven o'clock," Edward tells him sternly, jabbing his left index finger in Mustang's face. "Don't be late."

"I'll be there," Mustang says, staring at Edward's broad back as he walks away, shocked.

 

//

 

They make a habit out of having Sunday dinner at the Elric household.

All the things that they  _can't_  say still lay heavy between them, but Edward's house becomes something of a sanctuary for Mustang, and Edward himself finally admits that he likes having Mustang over.

Lucas always hurries to show his automail projects to Mustang, who is completely out of his element at the sight of all the wires and gleaming metal, but Edward promises that Lucas is well on his way to following in his mother's footsteps. Edward himself still goes to Rush Valley for tune-ups on a yearly basis, but he assures Mustang that his son will be handling them before too long.

Sarah, on the other hand, looks and acts so much like her father, rushing towards ten years old with fire in her golden eyes, and Mustang suddenly feels winded to realize how old he truly is.

It hurts too much to think of Edward being just like her, vibrant and brilliant and already a fine alchemist, becoming a cripple with a brother in armor, just a year older than Sarah herself is now.

"Isn't this cool? Between all the books in the libraries here and what Dad has told me about, I've been thinking that I want to learn about biological alchemy, maybe even being some sort of hybrid between a fauna specialist and a doctor." She is so much  _like_  Edward and her mother, Winry, gone from this world too soon, and everything just feels so raw. Watching her smile and draw simplistic, albeit sound, transmutation circles, makes Roy want to cry.

The worst part is, he doesn't know if he wants to cry out of joy, relief, or concern, and when he looks up, he knows that Edward feels the same way. Sarah eventually hands Mustang a flower that she's transmuted into a small ring and he accepts it gratefully. "That's an amazing goal. I'm sure you'll achieve it, Sarah."

Sarah beams, and is about to keep rambling before Lucas comes over and demands attention from Mustang and their father, who is snarling at them to behave.

Mustang has never met an Elric that has not accomplished whatever they set out to do, so he means every word of his praise.

 

//

 

Alphonse barrels into the laboratory while Edward is in the heat of a debate with the head researcher of the company, Dr. Luke Berger, and the two of them probably wouldn't have stopped snarling if Edward's brother hadn't forcibly stood between them.

It's been ages since he's seen Alphonse; since before he had moved the kids, and both Lucas and Sarah are due to receive a harder curriculum at school soon, both of them growing like weeds. "Al!" Edward happily greets his brother by throwing his arms around Al, and his younger brother hugs back, as strong as he ever was.

"Brother," Alphonse presses his palms against Edward's back and he sounds as though he's on the verge of tears, "I'm so glad to see you. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to visit."

"It's okay," Edward promises him, and he means that. "I knew that you were busy. Where're May and the boys?"

"Staying at a hotel in the west quarter of town. I wanted to see you first." He gives Edward's superior an apologetic look in lieu of his brother doing so, because there's no chance of Edward muttering the words  _I'm sorry_  to this man. "Did you have anything that you need to finish?"

"Nothing that can't wait," Edward said, sounding obviously annoyed, and Alphonse claps his brother at the back of his head. Snarling in retaliation, Edward kicks the door behind them when they leave and leads the way to his new home. "Did you want to pick everybody up or see the kids first?"

"I wanted to talk," Alphonse says quietly, and Edward is grateful for his admittance. "How've you really been?"

Winry's been dead for a year and four months. Lucas and Sarah have few clear memories of their mother now – the freshest things that they can recall are about scraping their knees on the sidewalks of Central, and having dinner with Gracia and Elicia a couple times a month. He's glad for that, truly, because it means that they don't have to live with the burning hole in their stomachs that their mother is gone, let alone thinking that they'd tried to revive her and killed her twice over.

He's glad that he'd brought them here to Central.

"Things really have been okay," Edward sheepishly replies, scratching the back of his neck, his steps naturally falling in line with brother's strides. "I mean, the kids are doing really well, my job's alright, and I guess I've been getting reacquainted with a lot of old…comrades." Because Mustang's team – they aren't  _friends_ , not really, but they mean a lot more to him than being some random, nice members of the military-come-parliament. "Other than having to deal with that fuckwit who thinks that having a PhD makes him the most amazing person in the world, even though he can't process  _actual_ , useful physics to save his life, things are good."

Alphonse stops and Edward turns to him, meeting his eyes, and Alphonse smiles just a bit in approval. "If you say so." He twists his hands before Edward unlocks the door and bows his head just slightly. "I'm sorry that I wasn't there for the funeral."

"Don't be," Edward says softly. "There wasn't one. Not formally, anyways. It was just me and the kids. Had her body and things cremated to make sure the disease didn't spread."

Alphonse puts a comforting hand on Edward's shoulder, and waits patiently while his older brother unlocks the door to his townhouse and calls that he's home to his children.

Both of the blonde-haired children bound down the steps and warmly welcome their uncle. Alphonse is patient with them as they ask stories about Xing and its' bordering nations, just as thirsty for knowledge as their father and uncle had been before them.

Alphonse's children are a little more subdued, a bit sharper at all the edges, and it's no news to Edward that his children could kick Sarah and Lucas's asses. Edward's trained them in martial arts from a young age, so they aren't slouches, but Alphonse has always been the stronger sibling between the two of them, and he would bet that May is far stricter on their three little boys' regiments than Winry had been on her children.

Still. His kids  _love_  Al, which, _duh_ , lots of people love him, but they love challenging him to duels even more, so they go to the paltry yard in the back to get some fresh air and Alphonse wears them out for a couple of hours before challenging Edward himself. The two of them come far closer to reaching a tie than Sarah or Lucas could have dreamed.

The chatter that evening is warm and pleasant, and Alphonse is all set to go back to his hotel, calling a cab before promising that he'll bring Lucas and Sarah's cousins and aunt over tomorrow afternoon before Sarah lets a question slip.

"When Uncle Al and all them come, is Mister Mustang coming too?" Sarah tugs at Edward's sleeve and the man groans for a multitude of reasons. Alphonse looks appropriately confused about her question, so she looks up at him and says, "Mister Mustang almost always comes over on Sundays for dinner, to talk business with Dad!"

"S'that so," Alphonse hums happily. "I didn't know that your father and the Führer were still so close."

"Dad says that the Führer is an asshole, but that he means well, and that Mister Mustang would probably starve if he didn't come over here and eat once a week." Sarah scrunches up her nose and Lucas laughs at her expression. "I think that if he's that hungry, he should probably be eating over here more often."

"Asshole is a bad word, Sarah," Alphonse gently reprimands before chortling and saying, "and I think you're right. Why  _doesn't_  Mister Mustang eat over here more often, Ed?"

Edward glares at his daughter, who sticks out her tongue, before turning the heat on Al. "This conversation is over. See you tomorrow, you little shit."

"Missed you too, brother," Alphonse replies with a wave, watching the cab pull up to the curb with a wicked smile. "Good night."

 

//

 

"Al's in town, and he's bringing his family," Edward grumbles into the receiver.

Mustang pauses for a long moment, thinking over what he's going to say before settling on, "You don't sound very pleased by the notion. Have you and your brother recently gotten into a fight?"

"Don't sound so scandalized. Al's no saint," the blonde spits out the words before sighing. "No. We didn't. It's just weird. I haven't had all of them over, since before, well, y'know." For some reason, he can tell perfect strangers  _before my wife died_ , but it's hard to phrase it like that to Mustang over the phone. "You don't have to come, if you don't want to. Gonna be a lot of excited brats bumpin' elbows."

With realization dawning in his voice, Mustang blankly says, "You don't want me there."

"I  _do_ , you shit," Edward begrudgingly admits, leaning his weight on the shelf that holds the telephone. "I just, I dunno. You sort of…get it." Edward trails off for a moment before finishing, "Like, living through that nightmare and still having to deal with the fact that reality isn't perfect. People still die, and it's hard."

"Well," Mustang replies sardonically, "One would hope that I  _get it_ , seeing as how I'm the head of the country, Fullmetal."

"I'll hang up this phone; I fucking swear I will."

"I'll be there," Mustang assures him calmly, quietly.

He knows what Edward means all too well.

"Sarah and Lucas are expecting me, anyways," Mustang quips again when Edward doesn't respond, and the resounding— _ding!_ —of the phone being slammed onto the hook makes him smile.

 

//

 

"Mustang, this is May Chang, also known as a major pain in the ass— _ouch_!" The exclamation makes everyone in the room snort, and Edward continues, "From oldest to youngest, her sons, Li Jun, Emir, and Zhang Yong." The boys all have brassy hair, several tones darker than Alphonse's, and, apparently, they resemble Trisha Elric far more than they do May or Al. Their eyes are hazel-gold, and, according to Edward, May has often lamented that they had received none of her Xingese looks. "Brat pack, this is Mustang, and you have my express permission to draw all over his face if he falls asleep after dinner."

They all get mischievous looks in their eyes, and Alphonse gives them a  _look_  before they settle down and hide their hands behind their backs. May doesn't even bother – she just starts thinking up a punishment for them, knowing full well that they're going to misbehave.

Furthermore, Sarah and Lucas are bad influences. From the start, Edward and Winry had known that their children were going to be unruly, as both of them had been restless children, and they'd accepted that in good humor. Of course, they were strict when they needed to be with the children, but mostly they let Sarah and Lucas figure things out on their own, because they were lax.

"Nice to meet you, sir," they all facetiously bow to Mustang and Lucas openly snorts at their pleasantries. The moment they're dismissed, all of the kids take off, Sarah and Zhang darting off to one room while Li, Emir, and Lucas gather in another.

Mustang would be worried if he weren't so sure that they were all going to pour over books and compare highly advanced alchemical and mathematical theories, rather than sit around and play games and talk about romance.

The adults all gather around the table, and Edward surprises himself by gravitating towards Mustang and taking a seat beside him, always seated to the left of the brunette, and everything just feels… _right._

Usually, his mind would be buzzing, thinking of leaving the chair open for Winry – she's gone, she's been gone, Mustang's been sitting in that chair for months now, really – but right now, he's just calm. Everyone's where they should be. He gets up when the timer goes off and Mustang helps him set the table and call the children down. The conversation around the table is rambunctious and idle and Mustang falls asleep on the couch, as he often does, after his stomach is full and his collar has been long unbuttoned.

Edward throws a blanket over Mustang before the kids pull out an inkwell, closing his eyes and smiling fondly, and it's just nice. Lucas  _insists_  that they take a picture of their handiwork, so Edward goes up to his room for the camera, and it really is pleasant to have company over again, to feel like this is home.

He misses traveling and the road, sometimes, but he's caught up in keeping an eye on his boss dicking around with aeroplanes for Mustang, and besides, he can't just leave his children alone. Not when everything is finally starting to feel  _normal_  again.

He knows he has Mustang to thank for the peace of his home in a lot of ways. Edward briefly contemplates buying the bastard a fruit basket before snorting at the idea of showing up in Central with the damn thing, knowing that Havoc and the rest of Mustang's team would demolish it long before Mustang himself could have a bite of anything.

Maybe he'll just send him a card.

"I'm glad that you weren't just saying that you were good for my sake, or for the kids, to seem brave or something," Alphonse says, as blunt as he ever was. "I was expecting you to be doing a lot worse."

"I hate feeling sorry for myself," Edward readily admits, and Alphonse knows the depth of that truth. "I'm just glad that I had what I had. I loved Winry, I have two amazing kids, and the three of us are alive. They love it here in Central, and I'm finding myself thinking that it's not so bad to be back." His eyes rest on Mustang and Alphonse gives him the same look that he'd given his children when they had come in earlier, so Edward scowls. "What?"

"You and the Führer," Alphonse starts with his title and Edward hisses, discreetly pointing to the nosy children peering around the corner. "You and…Mustang. Are you friends again, or is there something more between you?"

"The fuck?" Edward exclaims flatly. "I mean, I guess we help each other out. My job's not  _totally_  unrelated to military interests, but his thing is about making sure people don't abuse their power and shit, so I get it. I respect him and what he's doing for this country."

"But?"

"But  _nothing_ , Al," Edward insists, looking confused as to why his brother is even pushing the issue. "I help him, he helps me. I'm pretty fucking sure most of my research bonuses this year have come from his personal account, and him or his team watch the kids if I ever have something else I need to do."

Eventually, Alphonse sighs, looking incredibly put-upon. "Are you acting stupid about this on purpose?"

"Acting stupid about  _what_ ," Edward mutters in frustration, and in response Alphonse just flicks him in the forehead.

 

//

 

Lucas tinkers with the screws on Edward's foot when his father complains of a connection feeling odd, and as soon as he finishes working, he wipes his brow. "All done!" Edward pats his younger child on the head and listens to him talk about the latest advances in automail technology with a faraway expression, determined to soak in as much of what Lucas says as he can.

One of his lifelong regrets is that he'd never tried to understand Winry's passion in life, beyond understanding that she'd lived to help people who were missing limbs, so, he listens to Lucas and remembers his mother fondly, smiling all the while.

Sarah's out with friends today, leaving the two of them to roam town and grab groceries. While they're out, Lucas asks, "Why doesn't Mister Mustang just stay with us?"

It's a fair question. Edward had once asked where Mustang lived, and Mustang had responded that he lived in the northeast quarter of Central, just a ten-minute walk from Headquarters. It's a far cry from the Führer's grand estate just beside the military buildings and the dorms, but he'd stated that he'd wanted nothing to do with a home that Bradley and his figure-headed forebears had occupied. Edward suspects that the building, much like both of the homes he and Winry had purchased as a couple, feels a bit haunted to Mustang.

"Not sure that he'd want to, kiddo," Edward settles on saying at last. "Mustang's got real big business to attend to, and he couldn't bring his work home if you or Sarah started spillin' ink on it or something by accident."

"I wouldn't do that!"

"What about automail oil, then?"

Lucas looks appropriately mollified by the suggestion, so he pouts and murmurs, "Okay, maybe I'd do that." He reaches for Edward's hand and his father reaches back easily, relishing in the warmth of his boy's hand. How Hohenheim could have left this behind is baffling; truly,  _how_. "I like it when you're both around, Dad. It's nice. I wish you'd get out more."

Edward's jaw drops. "You tryin' to get me out of the house to bring people over already? Aren't you, like,  _ten_?"

"I'm almost eleven, Dad!" Lucas exclaims in a hurry, face turning a disastrous shade of pink. "And that's  _not_  what I meant. I'm just saying, before Mom died, you liked traveling a lot, right? Now you can't." He fidgets for a moment when they stop, dropping his eyes when Edward stares at his son open-mouthed. "All I meant was that, maybe, if Mister Mustang wanted to stay with us, then maybe you'd have the chance to travel more."

So many things fly through Edward's head. Lucas is turning eleven soon –  _ridiculous_ , how quickly time flies – and that means that Sarah will be thirteen and Edward himself will soon be thirty-six and thus Winry will have died nearly four years ago.

Lucas is observant, unsurprisingly intelligent beyond his years, and he knows that his father, Edward, and  _Roy Mustang_ , of all people, are close enough to move in together, even going so far as to suppose that Mustang might enjoy keeping Edward's children company while he traveled for months at a time.

The idea is preposterous.

Edward finds himself so arrested by the idea that he says nothing more and broods about the discussion with his son for four days.

He broods so hard that Sarah and Lucas make him apology brownies, and he apologizes to them, too, for acting so aloof. Two days after they make up, he manages to get a small craft to fly, sees that Dr. Berger tries to claim all the success of the project for himself, and speaks of attaching machine guns to the helms of the craft, and works to see him arrested, and Mustang assures him that it will be done.

It takes Edward two weeks to broach the subject with Mustang himself, who has been obviously suspicious of Edward's behavior but has been unwilling to force Edward to bring things up.

Edward keeps his tone light and jovial as he recounts the story, studying Mustang perhaps a bit intensely as he speaks. "I know it's silly, but my kids really do appreciate you, and so do I." Over these past couple of years, Mustang has felt like a lifeline to him, much as he had been when he'd dragged Edward out of his funk at eleven years old, just days after creating a monster. "Still, if they're serious about having you move in, then I  _have_  to ask. I'd even be willing to move into a larger house, I suppose, but I haven't thought things out that far."

A long pause falls between them before Mustang finally speaks. "And what about you?"

"Huh?" Edward brilliantly replies.

"What would you like, in the grand scheme of things? Would you like to move in with me?" His expression is carefully restrained, like he's plotting something, and Edward scowls.

"Well, yeah," Edward tells him in a matter of fact tone, like Mustang is very slow and needs things broken down into tiny pieces. "I mean, I like you around. It's nice. You help me out, I help you out, and I gotta admit, you're a lot better with kids than I ever would've pegged you for. I think it'd feel pretty normal, havin' you live with us."

"Oh?" Mustang asks lightly, looking perhaps a bit smug. "And why would you say that? That it feels  _normal._ "

"It just  _does_ ," Edward impatiently grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. "What is this, the fucking inquisition? Do you want to move in together or not?"

Mustang just sighs heavily, looking as though Edward is none too bright this time. "Edward," Mustang says his name with an edge to it and Edward studies Mustang's restrained expression with a quick pulse. "Do you care for me as more than just someone who is… _convenient_  to you?"

"Yeah," Edward breathes back the reply, looking affronted that Mustang would even ask such a thing. "Course I do."

"Do you like me?"

Edward snorts and then smirks. "I guess I do. Well enough. I wouldn't have asked you all of this if I didn't."

Then, suddenly, Mustang takes a pace and pulls Edward into a soft embrace that cannot be misinterpreted, even for someone as obtuse as Edward seems to be in matters regarding romance. "Well, I think that I'd very much like to kiss you. Would you like that?"

Edward's body hums  _yes_  eagerly, but Edward's mind is doing acrobatics. "I…maybe? Fuck, I've never thought about it."

"I'll give you time to think about it," Mustang patiently says, tucking stray hairs away from Edward's face and making him flush at the intimacy of the gesture. "Once you've thought about it, you can ask me to move in with you again."

 

//

 

Edward miraculously waits until his children are asleep before he dials a number that he hopes is still right.

"Chang-Elric household," a sleepy voice answers, and Edward hardly waits for his brother to finish speaking before he barrels on with his rant.

"Mustang wants to kiss me," he immediately blurts out before continuing, "I think, fuck, I dunno what to think. I was talking to him about the kids and moving in, and, damn, everything just felt so right, I almost just said yes on instinct before everything just hit me." He pauses for a long, long time before finishing, "Al, my wife's dead, and I told her – fucking  _swore_  – I'd never be with anyone else after her, and I tried to invite  _Roy Mustang_  to live with our children."

"Because you love him," Alphonse patiently replies between a yawn. "I kind of thought that was obvious."

"What the fuck do you mean,  _obvious_?" Edward feels as though he's hyperventilating. His breath is coming too fast and his face is on fire and nothing makes sense.

"You've lived in Central for a while now, and the only person you've openly let become a part of your life is Mustang. You cook dinner for him, and hell, every time I came to visit, you two sat and flirted with each other. Maybe your kids couldn't say so in as many words, because you're their  _dad_ , but you've been treating the Führer like he had a place in your home for some time. You're in love with him, brother."

Edward slumps down against the nearest wall and puts a hand over his mouth.

He can't refute the words.

Instead, he feebly says, "I promised."

Alphonse sighs deeply and replies, "Did Winry make you promise that you'd never be with anyone else after she died, or did you just tell yourself that?"

No, Winry had made him promise exactly the opposite. She'd damn-near threatened Edward to give her ring away so that someone  _living_ would cherish it.

"I'll bet, knowing Winry, that she told you to get your ass in gear and find someone that loved you, and loved your kids, and let you be yourself after she was gone. She wouldn't have wanted you to mope and avoid the president just because you're, what, shy? Or worse, you're scared. You're scared, because you're in love with Mustang and you don't want anything bad to happen to him, or to you."

"Fuck you," Edward says at last, hissing at his brother and despising how true the words are. He sits in silence for a long time before he manages to hang up the phone and wallow in his thoughts.

Now that everything's out in the open, the obvious dawns on him again, and Edward isn't entirely certain of his next course of action.

He loves Roy Mustang, and he'd wanted to kiss him hours ago, and he still wants to now, even though his head is a mess.

Edward feels so old all of the sudden, and it takes everything in him not to cry in frustration on the floor.

 

//

 

It all comes down to hard science, in the end.

"Lucas, Sarah," he starts with a no-nonsense tone and his kids snap their eyes up at him in a hurry. "Do you like Mustang?"

"Mister Mustang's really cool," Sarah exclaims easily, shoveling food into her mouth. "He tells cool stories, and he shows me the fancy alchemy that he can do by clapping his hands. He said that you used to be able to do that too!" After a moment, she blinks up at her father shyly and says, "I think he likes being able to tell me about your past, Dad. I like hearing about it, too."

"Yeah, I like that too," Lucas joins her in quickly agreeing. "Mister Mustang also brings me automail magazines and pictures of the latest designs when he goes to military meetings abroad. He's really well-spoken and he gives both of us warm hugs when he comes over."

With the first factor empirically taken care of – namely, that Edward's children like Mustang to the point of adoration – he moves onto the next. "And, if, say—big  _if_ , okay—that I, um. I kinda," and fuck, this is so embarrassing to talk about with his children, "If I liked Mustang a lot, y'know, the same way I liked your mom, and wanted him to move in with us, would you two like that?"

" _Yes!_ " Lucas and Sarah both readily celebrate, already taking the bull by the horns and claiming it as done. Sarah is the first one to continue, "I can't believe my potty-mouthed dad's gonna marry the  _Führer_."

"Yeah, but Dad's loved Mister Mustang for a long time. I  _told_  you he was gonna ask him to move in with us."

"I said  _if_ , you shitty brats," Edward grumbles, but the words come without heat and he smiles fondly at them. "Besides, we're probably gonna move in with  _him_. Mustang's loaded."

"Please tell me you'll still cook, Dad," Sarah pleas. "The last time he made dinner, everything tasted like burnt eggs."

"I'll cook whenever I'm home, I promise," Edward says, and even that makes his kids smile.

They're so damn smart, and he loves them so much.

Which just leaves one matter unattended.

 

//

 

Edward calls Mustang's private line with a code and asks the president to meet him at the usual deli for lunch. He hasn't seen Mustang in a few days, but he looks as tired as Edward feels, so the blonde takes pity on him and gets the hard part of this conversation out of the way.

"I love you," Edward says plainly, and Mustang so  _obviously_  balks at the admittance that both of them flush in embarrassment. "I thought about shit,  _a lot_ , and obviously I'd like to do a hell of a lot more than just  _kiss_  you, but more than anything, I want to know that this is for keeps."

"You want to marry me," Mustang exhales softly, his façade falling apart and the open glee shining in his eyes.

"I mean, it's not, like,  _required_  or anything, but, you know. I want you around for a while. Your job's not really the sort where you can tote around an old widower on your arm who came saddled with kids. That's a lot of bad rep."

"I could speak to parliament about things. Your reputation as a savior of the people is still alive and well. We could very easily make good press out of this relationship yet."

Edward scoffs light-heartedly. "You haven't even give me an answer, and you're already plotting on how you can use my old status to your advantage? Wily bastard."

"I'm planning for our future together as the most powerful man in this country," Mustang quips back easily, reaching for Edward's left hand and growing delighted when the younger man intertwines it with his own. "Isn't that an answer?" Edward snorts again and he smiles. "I don't know if I ever got the chance to thank you for helping me bring Dr. Berger to justice, so I'll say it now. Thank you, Edward. Will you stay and continue building aeroplanes?"

"For a bit," Edward explains with a wave of his hand. "Can you believe that my kids are  _urging_  me to leave, just as soon as they find out I wanna get hitched again? What the fuck. I think they can tell how restless I am."

"It's been a few years now that you've been in Central," Mustang muses softly. "That's a long time for you."

"I'll be back," Edward promises, squeezing Mustang's fingers.

"I know," Mustang replies easily, his expression so soft and fond that Edward could kick himself for failing to recognize all the signs of love that he's openly exhibiting  _in a public deli on his lunch break_.

They part with a brief embrace and Mustang waves goodbye to Edward, but both of them know that he'll be by the Elric household quite a bit sooner than his typical Sunday visit.

 

//

 

_> >epilogue<<_

 

"I said I was sorry, Al," Edward mumbles the words with a stubborn expression, making both May and Mustang sigh. "I've apologized four times already. You were right and I was wrong, yadda, yadda, also Mustang loves me. Now shove it, so we can go consummate our relationship or whatever the fuck."

"Edward!" Three voices chide him with a flush and Edward flashes all of them a sly smirk. This eventually makes Alphonse push Edward out of his own house, where Emir, Li Jun, and Zhang Yong are visiting with Sarah and Lucas.

"I also apologize on his behalf, Alphonse," Mustang adds, bowing to the younger Elric brother politely. "We appreciate you taking the time to watch the kids so that we could take a few days off for vacation."

"And so that we can have sex like rabbits," Edward unnecessarily adds, and it is an unfortunate circumstance that everyone within earshot knows him well enough to just roll their eyes. "See ya in a few days, midget woman."

"I'm going to bury your brother alive one of these days," May mutters loudly, certain that Edward can hear the threat.

"Don't worry," Alphonse replies easily. "I'll help you."

Edward only grins, locking arms with Mustang, who just shakes his head at the blonde.

 

//

 

Once Edward has all of his clothes off, and Mustang is similarly undressed, the two of them study each other completely nude with blatant curiosity. Edward is wiry in frame, but well-muscled from top to bottom. His automail leg connects smoothly to his left thigh and Mustang takes a moment to be impressed by the intricate work of it before following the healthy hum of Edward's skin up to the blonde curls over his crotch and the keen interest Ed has displayed.

"Eager, are we?" Mustang hums, looking just as  _eager_  himself.

"Duh," Edward supplies a response easily, slinging his weight over Mustang without a second thought and pressing the flat of his palms to the large, jagged burn scar that's long since healed. "You're fucking hot. We've made out and dry-humped each other a handful of times. I rarely just get to like,  _look_."

Mustang breathlessly chuckles, feeling further enamored by Edward by the second. "I could say the same of you. Your body is very…impressive." He moans into the kiss that Edward starts, unable to resist the allure of Edward's long, swinging ponytail and curling the ends of it around his fingers.

When they pull apart, Edward manages to ask, "How would you like to do this?"

"Any way you want," Mustang airily replies and Edward raises a brow. "What? It's been a long time since I've had sex, Edward. I just figured we would…go with the flow."

Edward laughs at that –  _loudly_  – before pulling away from a reluctant Mustang to dig through his suitcase. "Glad that I thought ahead, then. Relax. I'll make this good for you." He has a bottle of lubricant in his hands and Mustang smiles at his partner.

And, although it's been a long time since Edward has had sex, and hell, hadn't even wanted to think about it for a few years, it's certainly been more recently that he's been bed with a partner than Mustang. His youngest child is nearly twelve, and there's not a doubt in Mustang's mind that Edward is an earthy, body-fluent man.

He can feel Edward's strength in the bedroom now, as the blonde undulates his hips above Mustang and makes both of them moan for friction, lapping at Mustang's neck and chest, fucking menace that he is.

Their first round is over too quickly, and Edward hardly gives Mustang time to rest before delving into their second.

Edward murmurs, "Beautiful and strong and kind," into Mustang's skin, and Mustang cries out Edward's name like a prayer, desperate to feel Edward inside of him, eyes crossing at the sensation of everything just being too much, of being in love, of finding peace.

If someone had asked Mustang whether he had plans to settle down and fall in love and start a family – or  _find_  a family, he would have insisted, as an orphan – he would have laughed in their faces as recently as two years ago, and yet here he is, the most powerful man in Amestris being bedded by another, and it's  _good_.

Furthermore, it's  _fantastic_. Edward is flawed, and his family is flawed, and Roy Mustang loves them all.

He supposes that he just has a special place in his heart for Edward, who is twice as beautiful, strong, and kind as Roy could ever be, and when they finally fall asleep after enjoying their first night alone together, he can only hope that there will many more nights, just like this, where Edward is warm against him and comfortable when he's home, welcome to roam as often as he pleases, so long as he makes plans to return.

Mustang goes to sleep with a fond smile, and he wakes with Edward brushing his bangs out of his face and kissing his forehead.

"Three more days of just me and you," Edward says fondly, exhaling deeply.

"You can't fool me, Elric. You miss the kids already, I can tell."

"Sure I do," Edward easily admits to that. "But I can promise you right now, the  _minute_  they're off to college or the military or  _whatever_  it is that they wanna do, I'm going to fuck you on every surface of our house."

Roy's heart trills at the thought, although he scoffs and admonishes his partner. "Not  _every_  surface, Edward."

"You're right. Fucking in the laundry room would be weird. Alright, amended; we'll fuck on  _almost_  every surface of our house."

"You're impossible," Mustang grumbles, kissing Edward even though his breath is foul and being lured into four more kisses before either of them gets up to brush their teeth.

Sometimes Edward lingers on the oddities of his life and wonders how he wound up with the idealistic man he'd spent so much time trying to understand in his adolescence, but he thinks this is better, now that they know each other, now that they've survived death, and now that Edward knows he can love, and love well, and he hopes that will remain as Winry's legacy to him for the rest of his life.

Winry had asked that he let himself be happy after she died, so he tries his best.

Sometimes, he lets Mustang help, and that's the joy of it all.


End file.
